I can't fucking sleep tonight.
I just can't.
Because I've seen the dark, dark person I had become -
Throughout all these so-called years,
And I thought it was the end, I really did.
Well, maybe it is.
The end. Of the Monster.
The end, of what I've called "a life wasted."
An end, to all this shit that has been rummaging through my head,
All these years,
All these dreadful years.
And yes, I've said and written down here, the most awful things.
I can't sleep.
Because I fear....
change.
I fear that I've been an asshole, a fucking idiot,
For taking for granted that there is no hope.
For giving it up.
I fear tomorrow's morning, I know why now.
That's what's keeping me awake,
even though I've taken my meds, my knock-outs,
I fear...the best thing that may happen to this Thing,
The so-called, by yours truly, Monster.
I still feel it living inside of me,
Thriving on my despair, on my dread of ever
getting any better.
I am awake, because I'm afraid.
I've always been afraid.
Of the remote possibility...of the so-called "miracle" ever happening.
All these years, all I've seen, was the worst part of me.
All these nights, I lie awake, in fear, I can no longer deny,
Of deliverance. Of letting the miracle happen.
I fear the unknown, like everyone else does, at least, from time to time,
the fear of change.
A change, that may turn this middle-aged faggot into something else:
A Phoenix.
Reborn, from its ashes.
I see Gideon, half-hidden by the light of this lamp,
He finally agrees with me.
I find it hypocritical and even lame - to say here things,
That fully contradict what I've said before.
But that is me. That has always been, me.
In this Monster's skin, the Thing's brains.
I've got the willpower of a fucking moron, of a halfwit coward,
And i guess that's why, I am awake,
at this time,
at the end of this particular dreadful day, to me.
Because today, something may die, and i truly hope it does, indeed so,
I hope the fucking Monster dies.
I can't sleep, not only because of all that,
I am gripped by sudden fear,
of embracing the change,
letting it turn me into a fucking Phoenix,
I really hope so.
A funeral, to the fucking Monster! To the Thing,
that was me...throughout fucking thirty seven fucking years.
I lie awake, because I fear, not only the possibility
of - fortunately - been so wrong, on so many levels,
And I fear, the unknown,
that will take place, tomorrow morning,
due date of my "final bet".
All chips in.
All...or nothing.
Ten minutes to midnight.
Place your bets, gentlemen.
I've placed mine.
It lies in a still sealed yellow box,
along with a similar, sealed blue box.
Parnate...and Pamelor.
Will they be the so-called miracle I've been waiting all these years,
of this wasted life?
I don't know.
I truly don't.
All I know, is that I'm really tired.
Tired, of this so-called "life" I had,
In darkness and seclusion.
In eternal, and dreadful fear.
I'm sick of it. I'm fucking tired of it.
I made my Will, and that I'll maintain,
because this so-called hope, this so-called "miracle" comes with a price.
No, I don't mind having to give up on lasagna, cheese, salami, beer(fuck beer; I've always hated it)
No.
I don't mind giving up on certain foods.
But it doesn't take away the fear that I will constantly get,
whenever I eat even something that is not forbidden, from now on, to me.
But I'll always have to fear for the fucking tyramine,
that can appear on any kind of food, that's not exactly fresh.
That will be my shadow, my eternal doubt, my ever-lasting fear,
that is the price I have to pay...for a miracle.
So be it.
All chips are down, on the table of Life-or-Death bets.
I'm gonna bet them all,
Because it's all I got left.
Because I need it.
The yellow and blue boxes are waiting for tomorrow's morning.
The date that may mark the fucking funeral of this dreadful feeling,
of being - forever and ever -
a fucking Monster,
a fucking Thing.
Thanks to a simple phone call I've got today,
I see things differently now.
I am full of fear. I've always been.
But I'm sick and tired of this very fear,
and will gladly exchange this for something else,
a different fear.
Of change.
Of hope.
And, of course, the price tag on this so-called "miracle"
that lies in those boxes, yet sealed,
waiting for the morning,
to be opened,
and consumed.
May it be the fucking funeral of the fucking Monster.
May he rots forever and ever in the past,
in Hell,
wherever it may go to, but fucking far away from me.
Well, it's past midnight now.
It is today. July the 29th.
Today.
In a few more hours, no matter if I can sleep or not,
I'll be placing my final bet,
betting it all at once,
for the death. Not of me, myself,
but to this Thing I've became, throughout so many years in the dark,
seeing in the dark, knowing only fucking darkness,
and getting used to it.
Like the coward I was.
Was?
Is it possible, that I "was", and won't ever be, once again.
Gideon, half-hidden in the dark, tells me so,
that it may come to pass,
all the hell I've been calling "life", it may suddenly come to an end.
Phoenix.
Reborn, from its ashes.
The ashes of the Monster, of the Thing,
I called myself for so many years,
saw them reflected on all the mirrors I gazed,
But...they might be about to die.
All I know, is that nothing's really for sure.
Call me a fucking sceptical.
I still find it fucking hard to believe in miracles,
Because i got so used to live in darkness and seclusion,
that I was about to give it all up,
throw it all away,
in an "early" grave.
It is past midnight, and here it lies, the Great Unknown,
that gives me fear, I'm not shy to admit it.
I've always feared change.
Because I always thought it would for even worse,
that it already was.
I'm tired. I really am.
Of this so-called "life" I had, for so many years.
And I fear...a fucking miracle,
ironical that it may sound,
to the ears, and eyes of "normal" people,
who hasn't struggled with himself,
berated at a fucking reflected, twisted reflection of this Thing,
I've turned out to be.
For being a fucking coward.
A. Fucking. Coward.
For thirty fucking seven fucking years,
that I wish to leave behind.
So yes, let the "miracle" begin,
Yes, let the change come,
I am afraid, I can't deny it,
I've always feared change like death itself,
because I did not believe in it.
I am still a resilient Monster, as for now,
at this dead hour,
I am.
But I'm hoping that the so-called "miracle" boxes will do their job,
they will kill someone.
They will kill...whatever I thought I was when I saw myself at mirrors,
These sunken eyes.
This eternal frown.
Kill it! With fire!
Kill it, I beg of you, "miracle boxes".
Let it die. Let them die.
Give me a new dawn, still hours away,
Give me a new chance.
Give me hope.
I'm willing to pay the price,
to eternally live in fear of mere food,
that may contain the dreadful tyramine,
that may kill me.
This is my last hope,
and I am aware, the price's high.
But I will do it.
First thing today.
When I awake, if I can actually manage to sleep,
I'll open the boxes,
take them pills,
and hope for the worst,
for the fucking Monster, the fucking Thing.
I raise my glass of water,
to this death, of both of 'em.
May they rot in fucking hell.
Well, that's it.
All chips are in.
All bets are set,
my final bet,
so be it.
Here's to the rise of the Phoenix,
Like the one I've got tattooed on my left arm.
Let me rise from the ashes,
of these dreadful things I've came to be.
What now?
What happens next?
Will it work?
Is there a chance left for me?
These are the questions, keeping me awake.
That, and all the fear I've still got inside of me.
That uncertainty.
The eternal doubt.
That I am, somehow, worth a chance like this.
Am I really?
Are you sure?
I ask Gideon, he only replies me with his perpetual stare,
I ask myself, I don't fucking know.
All I got is a last chance.
A last bet,
All chips in,
All that's left.
Well, I don't fucking know,
Because, for now yet, I am still a Monster.
Full of fear and doubt, and self-loathing.
Let these boxes be a fucking requiem, to both of them.
The Monster.
The Thing.
May they fucking die, when I take the dreadful pills,
that may yet kill me,
(hence the Will still stands)
suddenly, after a rather innocent looking meal,
at a restaurant.
Tyramine. My Kryptonite.
That's the price I gotta pay,
to slay these bastards down.
So be it.
Let it be.
Let the bastards die,
as the day dawns.
Meanwhile, back to bed.
Maybe I'll sleep, maybe not.
Anxiety for the worst has always kept me awake.
I guess it won't be different tonight.
Fuck it, I say.
Let the hours slowly pass by,
the final hours of these awful things,
I've always considered to be "me".
All chips in.
Place your bets.
There they lie, in yet sealed boxes.
All chips in.
May the Monster, the Thing die.
Die, motherfuckers!
Fucking die!
I'm sick and tired of being you,
I'm sick and tired of being me,
at least like this,
entrapped by the Thing, the Monster,
I've always considered to be "me".
Die.
Die.
Die.
So long, motherfuckers.
I'm not gonna miss you.
All bets are set,
All chips are in,
So be it.
Until the morning comes.
Until the dawn breaks.
So be it.
Today, I'm gonna kill you both,
or die trying.
That's my fucking promise.
Let the dawn comes,
let the hours pass.
Let the both die,
And leave me be.
Waiting on a miracle.
Until the break of the day,
Until the new dawn...
All chips in, gentlemen,
Place your bets,
Set the marker to zero,
let the unknown come to be known,
by this desperate man,
willing to bet it all,
on something that my really change him,
but, alas, may yet kill him too.
Fuck it.
Here goes nothing.
